Castle Episode Tag: Cuffed, 4x10
by Donnamour1969
Summary: What I wish had happened at the end of this episode. Romantic, humorous one-shot. Spoilers 4x10. No copyright infringement intended.


A/N: Hi! This is my first foray into this fandom, so I thought I would dip my toe in with a one-shot episode tag. I guess that while I loved this episode, I was very frustrated that we didn't even get a kiss out of that situation. Out of that frustration, comes this ficlet. I'm still trying to get a feel for the "voices" of these characters, so I would love to know how you think I did. Thanks so much for taking the chance on reading this.

**Episode Tag: Cuffed**

At the sound of the knock on her door, Kate Beckett tossed her recently used towel over the rack and emerged from her bathroom.

"Who is it?" she asked at the door.

"It's me, Beckett," replied Castle from the other side. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did at the first sound of his voice. She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, then reached up a self-conscious hand to her damp hair. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now, so, with a resigned sigh, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

"Castle," she said, beginning the brush-off, "it's been a really tough couple of days…"

"I know; I was there—"

But he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. His gaze began a slow journey, starting at her hair, curling damply at the ends, then the low-cut t-shirt she wore, down to the form-fitting yoga pants, until he took in her bare feet with a slight smile. She was breathlessly amused to see him focus back on her gently sloping cleavage again before meeting her dark eyes with a faint blush. He gulped softly. One of Kate's delicate brows shot up in feigned offense, but secretly she was always flattered when she took him off guard, made him lose his train of thought. A girl could never tire of having that much power over a man…

"What do you want, Castle?" she asked in mock annoyance.

"Uh, yeah. Right. Oh!" he exclaimed, remembering. He brushed past her to enter her apartment like he owned the place, and began his excited monologue.

"Come in," she murmured dryly after he was already inside.

"I went straight home earlier and was compelled to write down our adventure with the handcuffs and the tiger before I forgot the details—I've got to include that in my next book. I mean, seriously, who could come up with this stuff off the top of their head?"

"I did feel at times like I was in a work of pulp fiction," she commented ironically, shuddering a bit at the discomfort, fear, and danger of the experience she for one would love to forget.

"Hey," he protested, his eyes going automatically to her bookshelves, where he knew for a fact she had every one of his novels on display.

She grinned. "Sorry, Castle. You know what I mean."

"Right," he huffed, eyes narrowing skeptically, but he continued, undaunted. "Anyway, while I was jotting things down, I realized there was one thing that didn't make sense about the whole situation—"

"Just one?" she injected wryly. He ignored the interruption.

"One blatantly illogical plot point I just couldn't get past."

"What was that?"

Kate really wasn't interested in his book-related ramblings, but she always found him inordinately attractive when he got so boyishly animated about it. His eyes would sparkle, his hand gestures would become increasingly dramatic, his made-for-radio voice would rise and fall like a sports announcer's during an exciting football play. She could actually see his mind suddenly switch gears.

"Let me ask you this, Kate—hypothetically, of course."

"Ask away, and I still have hope there's a point to all this…"

"If a man and a woman found themselves handcuffed together—two people who were obviously attracted to one another—"

"Obviously?" she asked, her heart giving a sudden thump.

"Hypothetically, Beckett. Work with me here. A couple alone in a room with a bed, handcuffed, mutually attracted, afraid they might not get out of there alive—don't you think it's pretty unbelievable that they wouldn't—I mean, that they didn't, somehow, _express_ that…attraction?"

She eyed him a moment, feeling as though he were coming on to her in his own indirect Castle way.

"Hypothetically?" she asked, turning her back as if actually considering his question.

"Yes," he confirmed impatiently, "like I said."

"Fear of impending death can also make people even more afraid of…_other_ things," she said, still facing away from him.

"Kate," Castle said softly.

When she felt him come up behind her, she tensed as his warm hands lightly touched her upper arms, gently turning her to face him. He picked up her left wrist and bent over it, examining the red chafe marks that still remained from the handcuffs. He encircled her wrist with his right hand, massaging it methodically with his thumb. She hoped he couldn't feel the way her pulse fluttered at his touch.

Their eyes met, and he held up his own left hand, showing her that beneath the cuff of his jacket, he had matching abrasions. Ever since Esposito had released them, Castle had felt like something was missing, like every time he moved, Beckett should be there to move with him.

"I feel," he mused aloud, "like I've heard people describe losing a limb, like although it's gone, it feels like it's still there."

Kate nodded, captured by the intensity of his stare. "Or like after you've been on a boat a long time, and you still feel the rocking of the waves beneath you, even though you're on dry land." She raised her left hand, still encased in his.

"Still cuffed," they said as one, like they often did when their minds shared the same thought at the same time. They grinned at each other.

Then Castle's eyes darkened. "If I were writing the scene we just lived, I would have ended it a whole different way."

"Really?" she asked, her voice a tremulous whisper.

"Really."

Castle's gaze dropped to her lips, then focused back on her eyes, where he saw at last her unspoken invitation. His hands glided up her bare arms, up to her slim shoulders, then, placing his palms upon each soft cheek, he closed his eyes and bent his head toward hers.

Without her high heels, he noticed that he was now much taller. That subtle difference between them, the undeniable physical manifestation that he was man, she, woman, struck a chord of desire so sharp in Castle that he moaned a little as his lips finally pressed against hers.

She gasped against him, her pulse racing now, her eyes actually watering beneath her closed lids as he moved his mouth sweetly, tenderly over the curve of her trembling lips. She practically fell against him then, surrendering to the passion she'd denied herself for so long. Her hands found his hair, sleek beneath her seeking fingers as the kiss deepened and his hot tongue entreated entrance at the opening of her mouth.

She let him inside.

From then on, both sharp minds turned off and pure emotion took over, guiding their lips, leading their hands, their bodies pressing ever closer as their mouths fused in frenzied desire. Kate was starting to see stars from arousal along with lack of oxygen, neither of them willing to step away from this beautiful dance they'd begun. Surprisingly, it was Castle who finally broke away, enough reason kicking in, telling him that if one wanted to continue kissing, one must actually breathe.

He freed their mouths with a small smack, panting hard, his forehead resting against hers.

"Kate." He exhaled her name like a prayer, eyes closed as he felt her body shaking in reaction beneath his own trembling hands.

She began to pull away, but he held on, wanting to keep her in his arms forever now that she'd let him have a taste of what Heaven was like. He had one quick glimpse of her dazed green eyes before his mouth found hers again, and their ardor swiftly increased anew. His jacket hit the floor, and her hands slipped down to the buttons of his shirt. Somehow they made it to the couch where she practically fell down upon him, molding her body to his as she felt the heat of his desire, tasted the tang of need on his tongue.

Castle's hands slipped beneath her shirt to caress her lower back, and it was this momentary mindlessness that had her hissing in pain against his mouth. He'd inadvertently pressed too hard on her puncture wound from the tranquilizer shot.

She sat up, grabbing at her back with one hand, pushing back her damp hair with the other.

"God, Kate…I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" His eyes were an odd mixture of concern and arousal.

"Yeah," she gulped, her eyes bright, her face flushed. "It's not bad, it just took me by surprise."

She looked at him now, his usually perfect hair mussed from her fingers, shirt unbuttoned almost to the navel, smooth, naked chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. _She'd_ done that to him. The picture made her smile despite her frustration.

"For the record," he said, "I about came unglued when you pushed my back against the couch. It hurts even more than it did yesterday."

They both were sitting up now, leaning gingerly against the back of her couch. He reached for her hand, bringing it to his kiss-swollen lips.

"This isn't exactly how I would have written the ending of this adventure either," he said.

She squeezed his hand. "Oh? And what would you have Nikki Heat do in this situation?"

He smirked. "For one thing, she wouldn't let a sore back keep her from going for what she wanted."

Kate laughed out loud at that. "That, Castle, is why you write fiction."

"_Realistic_ fiction," he corrected.

They smiled at each other a moment, communicating now with their closeness, with the simple touch of their hands.

"You know," she said, after a moment of comfortable silence, "if you wanted to bring more realism to your characters, you would should how much crime fighting actually hurts. For example, I'm black and blue from our little acrobatic maneuvers trying to get out of that basement." She shifted with a small grimace to emphasize her discomfort.

"You're telling me how to write now?"

"Well, you tell me how to be a cop often enough," she said wryly.

They stared at one another fondly, their hands still joined. "See," he said at last. "We're still _us_. We can do this, Kate."

She felt her eyes watering a bit, and she reached her free hand up to wipe at them, giving a self-conscious little laugh.

"You think so?"

He moved closer, leaning in to kiss her softly on her pink lips.

"I know so. Trust me. Trust us, like you did when that tiger was about to eat us. Hell, if we can survive that-"

"We can survive anything," they finished together.

To his extreme delight, she smiled and kissed him again, slowly, methodically, and he felt the heat begin to rise again between them, heard the deep, rich pounding of his pulse in his ears.

"Can we still use the handcuffs sometimes?" he asked hopefully against her lips. He felt her mouth relax into a sensual grin.

"I don't know, Castle…we'll have to work up to that."

**THE END**

A/N: Well? I would love for you to tell me what you think. Also, if you enjoyed my writing, I have written other stories for "The Mentalist", "Moonlight," and "Buffy." Click on my profile and check them out!


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